PR 






OT H E LLO 

An MttrpnUtmn 

"By 
MABELLE PHILIPS WEBB 

Author of "Questions on Othello 
for Clubs." 



lb 



WARRENSBURG, MO. 
MABELLE PHILIPS WEBB 



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■■ii-»'^vinrMr' 1*'" '* ' I' 



UBRARYof CONQRESSI 
Two Copies Beceived 

DEC 16 3 907 

Oopyngni tntry 

^^ 9 / f ^7 
0LAS5 v^ XXc. No. 

COPY B. 

■imrr-gTH 



Sii^kii^^^^^ 



Copyright, 1907 
Mabelle Philips Webb 



15 
I) 



OF 

Central 

AND OF 

CoTTEY College 



FOREWORD 



This little work is written for the 
good reader, because the good reader 
makes the good book. In writing I had 
in view not only the discussion of those 
difficulties and differences of opinion 
that must be faced by the club studying 
this drama, but also the hope of inter- 
esting some who might not otherwise 
become interested in this the last of the 
four great tragedies with which indi- 
vidual students and clubs become ac- 
quainted. 

"Shakespeare Again," Lowell was 
not afraid to christen his little book. 
And why? Because though old, he 
knew that a study in Shakespeare is 
always new and always different. Each 

5 



6 jforelijorti 

written life bears more or less the stamp 
of the personality which produces it; 
every new viewpoint gives a new facet. 
How many Hamlets have been written, 
and yet no two are alike ! And because 
there remain undiscovered regions of 
thought, there is room for other Ham- 
lets and Othellos which may fulfill our 
conception more perfectly than any 
heretofore written. This is my Othello. 
May I hope that the same will find 
favor with my reader? 

M. P. V^EBB. 

Warrensburg, Mo. 



Othello: An Interpretation 



Among readers of books and people 
of thought studies in Shakespeare, intro- 
duced with worshipful remarks about 
the poet, are honored in proportion to 
their absence. They take it most un- 
kindly having mere platitudes forced 
upon their notice, and cry out against 
such offenses, as did Montaigne when 
he declared, 'T do not need to be told 
what death and pleasure are!" Gener- 
ally, though, they have never come to 
terms about which is greatest of Shake- 
speare's plays, and for this reason the 
question never loses its interest. "Eng- 
land has but two books," said Victor 
Hugo; ''one of these is Shakespeare." 
It is no marvel, then, that such a ques- 

7 



8 #tt)ello: 2in 3f|nterpmatton 

tion should command, and receive, some 
attention. At one time or another it 
is discussed by the old and the young, 
by those commencing a study of the 
poet and those leaving off, without any 
exact hope of coming to an agreement. 
It is universally conceded, however, that 
the dramas include four tragedies of the 
first rank of genius: "Hamlet," the 
tragedy of thought-concentration with- 
out expression; "Macbeth," the tragedy 
of hunger and ambition; "Lear," the 
tragedy of greed; and "Othello," the 
tragedy of intellect. When it comes to 
deciding which of these is superior, dif- 
ferences of opinion again prevail. Every 
thoughtful student has a preference, and 
one may not hope with any choice to 
satisfy more than the likeminded. Ul- 
rici says that Englishmen consider 
"O t h e 1 1 o" Shakespeare's unrivaled 
drama. By way of corroborating this, 
it niight almost seem, Macaulay wrote, 



g^t^ello: Sin Blnterptetation 9 

" 'Othello' Is, perhaps, the greatest 
work In the world;" and Wordsworth 
reckons it with two others as the most 
pathetic of human compositions. Car- 
lyle characteristically speaks of "Time- 
defying Othellos." 

Goethe said that the rude man re- 
quires only to see something going on; 
the man of more refinement must be 
made to feel; while the truly cultured 
man requires also to be made to think. 
One may get nothing but the moving 
picture from "Othello;" and he gets 
much, but only to get this is to suffer the 
eye to become a monopolist, to play the 
cheat. Though one hidden brush is the 
painter, the drama provides for all three 
classes in abundance. As it moves 
swiftly across the field of vision, swept 
onward by the winds of passion, it has 
that within it which awakes every Imag- 
inable mood of heart and brain. Here 
it "is barbarous enough to excite, there 



10 (Bt\)tllox 0n 3f|nterprmtion 

tender enough to assuage." The hurri- 
cane of hfe sweeps through the pages, 
tossing lives like leaves to and fro, as the 
cold, cutting force of intellectuality pits 
itself against the blind infinitude of love. 

Shakespeare exhibits love in its widest 
range in this drama, including every 
mental condition, every tone, from the 
slightest kindliness up to the most ear- 
nest covenant; from the first perception 
of sensible presence up to the fierceness 
of all-destroying passion. Lessing says 
that he gives a living picture of all the 
most minute and secret artifices by 
which a feeling steals into our soul, of 
all the imperceptible advantages which 
it there gains, of all the stratagems by 
which every other passion is made sub- 
servient to it, till it becomes the sole 
tyrant of our desires and our aversions. 

While the essence of this tragedy is 
action — the soul in action, in its collision 



^tbtllox Sin ginterpretatton 11 

with a stronger force — all feeling, all 
thought goes out to the victim. In its 
tragical working out of human destiny, 
' "never was more intensity put into book 
before; never, perhaps, will more burn 
on any later page." The fact that lago 
is one of the two most intellectual of 
Shakespeare's creations requires thought 
for comprehension merely. The ambi- 
tion of Faust, universal desire, enters to 
a great extent into lago. He adds an- 
other chapter to the race in which it 
records its horror of its prison. All of 
the dramas written during this period 
of Shakespeare's life comprise dark 
tragedies, black contradictions of life. 
The keynote of them is: What do we 
know? what ultimate knowledge do we 
possess? There he leaves the question. 
As much as to say that the mysteries of 
life are more satisfying for our human 
needs than man's answers to those mys- 



12 g^tl^ello: Sin ^nmpttmtion 

teries. The muse of comedy kissed the 
poet only on the lips, but the muse of 
tragedy on the heart. 

In reference to the moral scope of 
the view of life which "Othello" pre- 
sents, Sydney Lanier places it in what he 
designates as the "Real Period," For 
this reason, he says, it appeals to all 
nations and times. In another classifica- 
tion of the plays made by Professor 
Dowden as follows: "In the Work- 
shop;" "In the World;" "Out of the 
Depths;" "On the Heights," — this falls 
into that period known as "Out of the 
Depths." 

When it is understood that this re- 
markable work represents the genius of 
Shakespeare at its height — for at this 
time his powers rode the zenith — it will 
readily be comprehended that whoso- 
ever undertakes to write of its beauties, 
its meaning, and the differences of opin- 
ion in regard to it, essays no easy task. 



(Dtlbellot 3in 31nterpmatton 13 

Hamilton Wright Mabie says that no 
one ever gets to the bottom of Shake- 
speare's thought. We shall only attempt 
to interpret here a line, there a line. 
Personally, however, we do not care for 
those departments of human inquiry that 
have no depths, no difficulties. There 
may be places where we can find neither 
latitude nor longitude, much less show 
others the way; but be that as It may, 
with Carlyle we count it more profitable 
to have to do with men of depth than 
men of shallowness. If we have an oc- 
casional fall, however, those who read 
may profit by our missteps, and will not 
refuse their indulgence. 

"Othello" is a contest between man 
and circumstances, in which circum- 
stances are victorious. The resolution 
is in sorrow and death without recon- 
ciliation, and purposely it bears the 
name of a single individual. Tragedy 
as conceived by Shakespeare is concerned 



14 0tf^tl\ox an ginterpmation 

not with the outer, but the inner life; 
the ruin and restoration of the soul, its 
stress and recovery. Success here means 
neither practical achievement in the 
world nor material prosperity, but the 
perfected life of the soul; and failure 
its ruin, through ''passion or weakness, 
calamity or crime." 

No more surely, in the "Ancient Mar- 
iner," was the course of the phantom 
ship, sailing the phantom sea, deter- 
mined by the phantom man, who held 
the tiller, than that lago, by the pulse 
of his will, causes every action in this 
play to go forward to its tragic consum- 
mation. The opening scene reveals the 
motive intrigues embodied in lago; an 
atmosphere of adventure; the Turkish 
war enveloping all. We can not fail to 
notice with what art the dramatist pre- 
pares beforehand for the catastrophe 
by presenting the germ of all the after 
events. A shadow chases the reader 



(Dtljello: 0n iflnterprrtation 17 

account, — the material universe and 
man. His vision falls ; he retreats baffled 
from God. Blindness Is only a relative 
term, however, for the vision of each 
of us gives out at a certain point. With 
Shakespeare nature was furthermore al- 
ways subsidiary to the chief personages; 
man was, therefore, pre-eminently his 
theme. For a background In "Othello" 
he gives Venice, war, adventure; out of 
that should steal the main picture. First 
you look for the central figure ; without 
doubt that is lago. It is no difficult 
matter to put the other characters into 
place. In the contrast of the character 
of lago with that of Othello lies the 
central point of the spiritual Import. 
Far as the poles apart are Othello, the 
great heart, and lago, the proud Intel- 
lect. The latter, however, is the central 
figure, the dramatic hero, and the mo- 
tive personage. 

Other writers aimed their satire at 
2 



18 (j^ttiello: an glntetpmatton 

individuals; Shakespeare at one stroke 
in lago lashed thousands. Men idolize 
intellect. It has become the Moloch to 
which life itself is sacrificed. Bright- 
ness is rated above goodness, and intel- 
lectuality above fidelity. Mind is held 
supreme over spirit; brains are on the 
throne. Every man who has attained to 
any of the higher degrees of intellect has 
at times but to place his finger on his 
pulse to feel throbbing there the blood 
of lago; for lago believed in the ade- 
quacy of intellect alone and unsupported, 
so only that intellect was great enough. 
This creation, therefore, in his inability 
to value moral beauty and worth, and in 
his immoderate prizing of brain, exalt- 
ing it above everything else in the world, 
is to-day one of the most universally 
true in literature and life. This fact 
gives to the drama the stamp of mod- 
ernness, makes it like the twentieth cen- 
tury itself. So instead of a picture of a 



#tfiello: an 31ncerpretacion 19 

dead past, we have a leaf torn from the 
living present. 

Shakespeare, the seer, understanding 
fully the power of intellect, has here, 
working with intensest impulse, flung 
forth a masterpiece ; and to his work of 
art he has given the name "Othello,'' 
"for he was great of heart." 

In science the intention of a thing is 
the purpose it really serves, which is 
discoverable by analysis. ( So the pur- 
pose of this tragedy, when analyzed, is 
to show that the heart is the only source 
of power which masters men for good; \ 
that the history of each life worth record 
is the history of its loves; that a full 
head does not compensate for a foul 
heart; but that the heart should beat in 
the brain. 

The poet in his youth found great 
pleasure in the sparkle of intellect, the 
play of thought. After he had seen 
more of the deep sorrow of the world, 



20 (Bt\)tlh: 0n Jlnterpmation 

and its deeper evil, he came to realize 
that intellect is tributary, not sovereign; 
and not only that morals and mind 
should be in everlasting bond, but that 
the superior of these should be kept su- 
preme. He realized also that "out of 
the heart are the issues of life," instead 
of out of the will or understanding. 

Carlyle does not believe that a man 
able to originate deep thoughts is unable 
to see them when originated; Lowell, 
with what courage we know not, said 
that Shakespeare was no inspired idiot. 
Intentionally or not, however, he teaches 
through lago that to lift intellect alone 
is to put whitewash on the rascal, to 
furnish forth the villain. It must be 
conceded that the ethical and intellectual 
have always been correlated in history, 
whether the question is studied in the 
follower of Brahma or Confucius; in 
Greek or Jew ; in Buddhist monastery or 
medieval monasticism. Each nation's 



(Bt\)dlo: an ^Interpretation 21 

history reveals their inseparability, and 
that morality is the basis of all sound 
intellectual culture, and its only safe con- 
servator. A sympathetic study of the 
poet in this work reveals the essential 
moral nature of his teaching in regard 
to truth, intellect, life, and love. His 
message is a message for every century. 
Emerson said, "Intellect and morals 
meet in the man if he is to be great." In 
lago we see the tragedy of an intellect 
which has cast off all moral allegiance. 
In Richard III, in Falstaff, and in lago, 
pride of intellect without moral feeling 
is the ruling impulse. In the most des- 
perate, in the most dissolute, and in the 
most consummate of Shakespeare's vil- 
lains is found the same distinguishing 
characteristic — a supreme prizing of in- 
tellect. 

/ Out of lago's own mouth In the first 
scene we get the key by which we unlock 
the motive of the play. Sodden with 



22 (|^t!)eUo: 2in glnterpretation 

suspicion, he conceives, and then pro- 
ceeds to nurse, what he himself half-way 
believes to be a baseless idea that 
Othello had wronged him with his wife, 
Emilia. Whether true or false, he re- 
solves in the following words to make 
Othello know every pang of jealousy :\ 

"I have it; it is engendered: Hell and Night 
Must bring this monstrous birth to the 
world's light." 

Man sees what he has trained him- 
self to see, what he is interested in see- 
ing. And what is lived in the thought- 
world sooner or later becomes objectified 
in the life. Nursed in the lowest ranks, 
intrigue has shaped his intellect till he 
had become so subtle to suspect that 
suspicion goes beyond all bounds, and 
makes himself its victim. Too long he 
breathed this air of hell — he was at last 
consumed by its flames; and this is the 



&t\)tllox 3in glntrrpretatton 23 

motive of the tragedy, lago's suspicious, 
consuming jealousy. 

He feared neither to soil his fingers 
nor sicken his heart In any black laby- 
rinth of wickedness. His aims were 
never of a simple sort, or easy of attain- 
ment; but to the utmost degree he was 
expert In pursuing them. He spared no 
pains in making each evil produce a 
maximum of results ; for he looked upon 
Iniquity as altogether too precious to be 
thrown away. He compassed this by a 
concentration, a drawing of all the in- 
trigues Into unity. By such economy of 
villainy he brings it about that all done 
toward racking Othello's heart with mis- 
ery is so much done toward the ruin of 
Cassio. T In plotting against Desdemona 
he wishes to remove . Cassio and be 
even'd with Othello.'^/iHe seeks to be rid 
of Cassio for two reasbrrs ; first, he wants 
his office; then the beauty of his life 
makes him so ugly, the sun's rays reveal 



24 O^tljello: 2in ^Interpretation 

the dust! Brutus is never so honorable 
as when Caesar is not by! Mere intellect 
brought into the presence of character 
casts a shadow, f Where Cassio passed, 
there went a silent judgment upon cor- 
ruption. A standard of character 
seemed unconsciously to accompany him, 
commanding and compelling discrimina- 
tion between the base and noble. lago's 
peculiar villainies found in Cassio their 
peculiar antagonist. * 

In regard to woman — and lago was 
ever what he willed to be — he holds the 
maxims of the Turk^ Coleridge cries 
out in repugnance: r Cassio is an enthu- 
siastic admirer, almost a worshiper, of 
Desdemona. O that detestable :ode 
that excellence can not be loved in any 
form that is female, but it must needs be 
selfish! ... It ought to be impossible 
that the dullest auditor should not feel 
Cassio's religious love for Desdemona's 
purity. \ lago's answers are the sneers 



(!^tl)ello: 2in Jinttxpvtmion 25 

which a proud, bad Intellect feels toward 
a woman and expresses to a wife. Surely 
it ought to be considered a very excellent 
compliment to woman that all the sar- 
casms on them in Shakespeare are put in 
the mouths of villains." 
r^Cassio's morals do not altogether 
tally with our ideas of virtue. But his 
morals were ahead of his time, and his 
regard for Desdemona was all that 
Coleridge — Shakespeare's truest critic 
— teaches. In respect to virtue in itself, 
the world was ages behind what it is 
to-day. For the story of virtue, like the 
history of the race, the life of the indi- 
vidual, is a growth, a progress, a Bible. 
To intelligently comprehend any past 
age, whether barbarous or enlightened, 
the pendulum of life must be drawn 
back across the dividing centuries. 

In knowledge of character, in expres- 
sion of passion and tone-play, the third 
act in this drama is hardly paralleled in 



26 <i^tt)gilo: an ^ntttpvtmtion 

literature. Here is found the famous 
"Suggestion Scene," where lago goes 
nigher the wind than any other villain, 
and, without really affirming anything, 
^ drives his victim with suspense and suf- 
fering to insensibility. 

lago had roamed the earth from 
Smyrna to England; his course diversi- 
fied with many vicissitudes; his life spent 
on the open theater of the world, f^ In 
reading character he had becomd an 
adept; he could spy out with perfect 
acuteness where another's weak side lay. 
In the cold north-light of his intellect 
he seems to have exactly calculated 
Othello's vulnerable spot; whilef Othello 
lacked nothing less than everything in 
his ability to see through lago. Though 
Othello had been hardened by twenty 
years of wars and shipwrecks, at lago's 
words he swoons for grief. lago knew 
just how to manufacture more than the 
plausible, whitewash the false; or, as a 



^"i 



(^tftelio: ^n ^Interpretation 27 

Dumas might say, he made the false 
truer than truth. From this on, the plot 
thickens; his medicine works. He un- 
derstood but too well that every man is 
led and misled in a way that is personal 
and individual to himself. With the 
perfection of skill he keeps Othello, 
Desdemona, Cassio, Roderigo, on the 
road to ruin; so that, partakers or not 
of his crime, they must share his punish- 
ment.! His head is as acute as his heart 
is callous. He finds especial joy in 
probing Othello to the quick. ''He 
hates him as a man,'^ says Froude, "be- 
cause his nature is the perpetual opposite 
and perpetual reproach of his own." 
I He takes pleasure in the worst side of 
everything, and in proving himself 
an overmatch for circumstances^ | He 
shrinks from nothing which will serve 
his turn. His villainies were combined 
in far other order in his own mind, we 
must say in fairness, than we have 



28 (Dt^ello: an ^Interpretation 

painted them; under colors which did 
not, indeed, paint them up, but exhibited 
them as virtues. References to his own 
integrity he takes as an affront to be 
resented. Will and intellect were the 
only faculties recognized in his world. 
No other creature ever showed a hun- 
grier avidity of evil than seemed to sting 
him; his end in life was evil, and noth- 
ing but evil. He drained dry the cup of 
iniquity, yet remained unsated. 

Mr. Green's notes concerning him 
say: "Crime is pleasant to him. I will 
not assert that such a man can not exist; 
but I know that he is improbable." 
Shakespeare did not altogether invent 
lago; he summoned him froni out the 
world, and has given us a career which 
is a type. Take villains individually, 
and no one of them ever was an lago; 
sum up villainy, and you have him. It 
is a type which lives ; but in which there 
is nothing that cries out "Beware!" to 



(Dt^ello: Sin glnterpmation 29 

warn you, as in the less perfect villain. 
It is not without its significance that 
Shakespeare makes him only twenty- 
eight years old. He was a villain 
born, not the result of sad experience. 
He has no heart to love; no bowels to 
suffer; no eyes to weep, — nothing of 
man except the form. To such a being 
neither the intensity of joy of which the 
soul is capable, nor the cross and passion 
of a human heart could be understood; 
his only human quality was a subtle, 
penetrating intellect. The great moral- 
ist would have us know there is some- 
thing worse in life than suffering, — an 
incapacity to feel. Those alone capable 
of great suffering are capable of loving 
greatly. For this reason the resolution 
in sorrow and suffering is ethical and 
spiritual.^;* 

If we put together in the play all that 
lago had to say of himself, and all that 
others say and appear to feel about him. 



30 (J^tljello: an 31ncerpmatton 

we get a truer Idea of him than any 
other way. That will be the correct 
reading of his character, as far as we 
shall ever read it; account for, and in 
some way reconcile, what is represented. 
p'^We know from what he himself says 
and does that he is the most insufferable 
creature in soul that ever trod the stage 
— a very flame of hell; that no white- 
washing of his name is possible; it is a 
blot on the human race. '■ We learn from 
the text that in personal appearance and 
in reputation he was the exact opposite 
of all this. 

Shakespeare seems to take pains to 
show us for a purpose that even his wife 
had no idea of anything but his honesty 
and warmth of heart. Though she had 
even aided him in his great villainies, 
she was ignorant of them. Emilia was 
not a woman to be easily imposed upon, 
and yet she was imposed upon, and had 



(^tl&ello: Sin gintetpmatton 31 

confidence in his goodness of heart from 
the first to very near the last. Early in 
the tragedy, speaking of Cassio's dis- 
grace, she says she knows it grieves her 
husband as if the case were his ; then at 
the end we witness her utter astonish- 
ment when she learns that lago is the 
villain who spoiled Desdemona's life 
and caused her death. 

He is easily the most popular young 
man in Venice; this we know from the 
way his friends, '^great ones," interest 
themselves in getting him an office. He 
wins every one to trust him, the good as 
well as the bad, that he may profit by 
their confidence. He lays himself out to 
make friends, and accomplishes his pur- 
pose any way at all so that it is effected. 
To one he is imperious, to another ob- 
sequious; he bends to occasion; blows 
hot and blows cold; prefers cunning to 
force; is quick of scent and sharp of 



32 (Pttiello: an glnterpretatton 

tooth ; everything and nothing by turns ; 
at one and the same time human and un- 
human. (He has no good principles, ab- 
solutely noneT/ Since in such vast ability 
he was hindered by nothing in the way 
of scruples, there was no end to the evil 
he could do, except the end of him. All 
he needed was life.; his powers were 
boundless — limited only by that. He 
is, necessarily, therefore, Shakespeare's 
most consummate villain — the most per- 
fect which has marked the world's his- 
tory. 

"One first question," said a philos- 
opher, "I ask of every man: Has he an 
aim which, with undivided soul, he fol- 
lows and advances towards? Whether 
his aim be a right one or a wrong one 
forms but my second question." lago 
marked out a path for himself to travel, 
and traveled the same like a will In- 
carnated. Though he be a villain of 
the first water, It should not hinder us 



g^t^ello: ^n glnterpretatton 33 

from running to see how he managed It, 
and what befell in the end. Such lives 
are, insignificant, and deserve study. It 
is man's merit to rule external circum- 
stances, and as little as possible be ruled 
by them. Without us are the elements, 
— within us force. Whosoever strives 
In our sight with all his powers to reach 
an object, whether it Is one that we 
praise or blame, may count on exciting 
our interest. In such cases usually, as 
Dr. Johnson says, there Is danger "lest 
wickedness conjoined with abilities 
should steal upon esteem, though it 
misses approbation ; but the character of 
lago is so conducted that he is, from the 
first scene to the last, hated and de- 
spised." In word, act, and thought he 
did nothing but lie. When the play 
opens he has reached sure perfection In 
the art; there Is nothing like It. He Is 
the king of liars. Yet he Is labeled no 
less than about twoscore times with 
3 



34 (Dtfiello: ^n glmerpmatton 

"honest" and "good" by his future vic- 
tims. After the murder of Desdemona, 
Emilia exclaims: 

" My husband say that she was false !" 

Othello repeats his words: 

"He, woman; 
I say thy husband: dost understand the word? 
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest lago." 

In the old story from which Othello 
is taken, it is through the tenderness 
Desdemona feels for the child of lago, 
whom her father teaches to steal the 
handkerchief, that he takes occasion to 
destroy her. For a child to have stolen 
the pledge of love under such circum- 
stances, and with such results, Shake- 
speare seems to have felt, would have 
been to have heaped the measure, to 
have exaggerated horror, to have sinned 
against art as well as nature. "Mon- 



<Dtl^ello : Sin 31nterpretacton 35 

sters should not propagate," said an 
Englishman; *'a child of lago is not to 
be endured by man." 

When Desdemona in deep distress 
sends for lago and asks: 

"Alas, lago, 
What shall I do to win my lord again? 
Good friend, go to him/' 

He goes to him. Not, however, to 
reconcile, but to trade upon her confid- 
ing trustfulness by rousing a fiend of 
wrath in Othello. It stands written 
upon his front, as it is said to have been 
upon Mephistopheles, that he never 
loved a living soul. 

From the time when lago kneels with 
the Moor and includes himself in the 
oath of vengeance, all has gone forward 
as he wished. His sin, like a fire, has 
completely encircled the innocent, — 
Shakespeare knew that crime was not 
simple in its consequences. Fate hides 



36 (Dtl^ello: an 3|ntei:pmatton 

till he thinks he has made an end of 
those he hates; then Nemesis plays with 
lago. The turning point of the drama 
begins in the second scene of the last act, 
one hundred and fortieth line. There the 
tragic consummation gives way to reac- 
tion. The intrigues one by one react 
upon the head of the Intriguer, while 
blood flows like water ; for such sin will 
not be satisfied with a single victim. He 
has tortured Othello into slaying Des- 
demona, and he in turn is goaded into 
taking Emilia's life; and thus his words 
come true, he Is "even'd with Othello 
wife for wife." i He made a tool and 
fool of Roderigo, then cast him aside, 
but the contents of Roderigo's pocket 
furnish the evidence against him.i He 
plotted to take the office and File of 
Cassio, but Casslo lives to demand his 
for the sake of justice. ( 

Every man will make for himself the 
most wicked man that he, by the power 



d^elicllo: an glnterpmatton 37 

of his will and imagination, can create; 
but the secret of the abyss of lago lies 
deeper than ever plummet sounded save 
Shakespeare's. Compare this incarna- 
tion with Goethe's Mephistopheles, the 
majestic spirit of Milton's invention; or, 
compare him with Shakespeare's other 
villains ; and one and all are spirits of 
less deep damnation than that incarnated 
in "Othello." He might be said to be 
the great dramatist's idea of the won- 
derful power that lies between a man's 
two temples, and, also, the wonderful 
potential evil when power rests in the 
mind alone. 

Father Vaughan, the lecturer, says 
"lago is the great mystery. Can a 
soul be absolutely given over to evil?" 
But no matter how incomprehensible the 
characters of Hamlet and lago may be 
— and in this respect they are true to 
nature, for there is much in every life 
to elude and baffle inquiry — they possess 



38 (i^tl)ello: an glnterpmatton 

a tantalizing charm for the thoughtful 
man, and, though they balk him, he will 
continue to work upon them as upon all 
insoluble problems. They do not an- 
swer, however, because life does not an- 
swer. There is a kind of fitness; after 
all our inquiries it seems right that what 
has so much power to offend as this un- 
paralleled lago should be left in semi- 
darkness, unresolved. It is little we 
know except that he warred against the 
whole world, owning no man for friend. 

In turning to Othello, the passive 
hero of the play, we can not do better 
than introduce him with a few lines by 
an anonymous critic: 

" 'Othello' is no love story; all that 
is below tragedy in the passion of love 
is taken away at once by the awful char- 
acter of Othello; for such he seems to 
us designed to be. He appears never as 
a lover. . . . His love itself, as long as 
it is happy, is perfectly calm and serene, 



(Dtl)ello: gn 3|nterpmatton 39 

— the protecting tenderness of a hus- 
band. It is not till it is disordered that 
it appears as a passion: then is shown a 
power in contention with itself, — a 
mighty being struck with death, and 
bringing up from all the depths of life 
convulsions and agonies. It is no ex- 
hibition of the power of the passion of 
love, but of the passion of life, vitally 
wounded and self-overmastering. . . . 
His happy love was heroic tenderness; 
his injured love is terrible passion; and 
disordered power engendered within it- 
self to its own destruction, is the height 
of all tragedy. [ 

''The character of Othello is perhaps 
the most greatly drawn, the most heroic 
of any of Shakespeare's actors ; but it Is, 
perhaps, that one also of which his 
readers last acquire the intelligence. 
The intellectual and warlike energy of 
his mind; his tenderness of affection, his 
loftiness of spirit; his frank, generous 



40 q^t^dlo: ^n gintrrpmatton 

magnanimity; impetuosity like a thun- 
derbolt; and that dark, fierce flood of 
boiling passion, polluting even his imag- 
ination, — compose a character entirely 
original, most difficult to delineate, but 
perfectly delineated.'* 

We now come to the main action of 
the play, the story of the love of Othello 
and Desdemona. This, in large meas- 
ure, is an assertion of the superiority of 
that which is seemingly a lesser part of 
life; namely, emotion. It passes by the 
achievements of the chief personages to 
assert, apparently, that the important 
thing is neither the great action, nor the 
great intellect, but that love is the great 
thing in living. In the immolation of 
intellect at this shrine of the heart 
Shakespeare gave his verdict, — gave 
goodness precedence of everything else; 
elected it as the clue to which man must 
cling in this labyrinthine life. 

The Moor was an esteemed and 



^t\}tllot 2ln JinttxptttRtion 41 

trusted soldier whom the City of the Sea 
had engaged in her service. For twenty 
long years his life had been one of hair- 
breadth accidents by land and sea. In 
that far-off time, though a favorite in all 
tenses, even a greater fascination clung 
round the wanderer than does to-day. 
Brabantio, the senator, repeatedly in- 
vited Othello to his home, that he might 
hear again and again the thrilling nar- 
rative of one who not only feared no 
danger, but courted life's vicissitudes. 
And Desdemona, though unnoticed by 
her father, was likewise an intensely In- 
terested listener. She prayed Othello 
privately that he would *'all his pil- 
grimage dilate," so that she might the 
better understand ; for to her untraveled 
thought the world outside of Venice was 
but a dim conception. Othello, gener- 
ous to a fault, was more than willing to 
teach one so very anxious to learn, for 
her sympathetic interest in his narrative 



42 #tl)ello: 0n glnterpretatton 

had not been unobserved. His heart 
was wholly unoccupied, and for a time 
it remained untouched. In the daily re- 
cital of his wanderings, which in many 
places were pitiful to tears, it was un- 
known to him that he was thereby win- 
ning the compassionate heart of his re- 
ceptive pupil. He learned of her secret 
love by her telling him that if he had a 
friend, and would but teach him to tell 
his story, that would woo her. His 
sterner, warlike qualities were at once 
tempered by a feeling he had never 
known before, and, taking the hint, he 
says, he spake. 

Desdemona, being motherless, and 
for that reason needing a father's 
friendly counsel, had grown to woman- 
hood ignorant of her father's love, — a 
love so great and sincere that her loss 
robbed him of his life, — through that 
timidity born of fear she failed to take 
. him into her confidence ; and was guilty 



(Bt\)tllo: an ^nttxpttmion 43 

of that deception towards him which is 
the peculiar temptation of the timid, lov- 
ing nature. Never knowing, therefore, 
the companion a daughter may find in a 
father, she had lived comparatively 
alone in the palace, where only old 
echoes lingered, only old friends came, 
undrowned by any new voice till 
Othello's was heard. Then, as day fol- 
lowed day, they became more and more 
attached to each other, so that she 
wished always to hear, and he to repeat 
to one listener only. The reciprocation 
was most sweet and helpful. But from' 
the days of Abelard and Heloise not 
only the most violent love, but as much 
unhappiness as happiness, has arisen 
from such an intercourse of two beings. 
The contrast between the outward 
and inward man, — the one battle- 
scarred, unprepossessing, the other lov- 
ing and lovable, — has rarely been more 
impressively disclosed than in this story. 



44 0t\)tllox 0n 3[meiymation 

The personal anguish following the giv- 
ing of this fatal love to Desdemona 
lends that spell to Othello which some- 
where finds an echo in almost every ex- 
perience, and to which no human heart 
can be wholly indifferent ; for few indeed 
have reached maturity and w^holly es- 
caped some visitation of love-sorrow. 
The very completeness of the shipwreck 
of his happiness only adds to our in- 
terest. 

Desdemona's youthfulness made her 
impatient for complete self-surrender, 
impatient that a newer authority might 
supersede the old. Her love for Othello 
was not merely a girl's fancy. He was 
a warrior, without those graces women 
are wont to admire. His manner was 
grave, reserved. There was a side of 
his nature which made Desdemona 
tremble; and yet they were attracted by 
the wojiders of this very unlikeness, for 
contrasts "like in unlike" are wont to 



(Dtftello: Sin glntetyretation 45 

love each other. A natural affinity of 
soul seemed to draw together the 
swarthy Moor and the fair girl of Ven- 
ice. For this reason their love is a type 
of that fundamental love which attracts 
opposites into the closest bonds. No 
matter, therefore, how wide the chasm 
by which circumstances separated their 
lives, they were sure to try for each 
other. Reciprocal love is not the most 
common thing in the world; for those 
we love and those who love us are some- 
times two very different things. For 
this reason, if you leave but this story 
of the love of each for each to this play, 
you might take everything else away, 
and it would still retain and deserve its 
undying interest. Nothing in art is 
perennially influential which does not 
appeal to the primal, the elemental, for 
human sympathy. 

Othello knows that he has found his 
fate in Desdemona ; yet he leaves her to 



46 a^tt)ello: an ^ntttpmntion 

challenge his heart, make the first ad- 
vance. And because there was some- 
thing precipitate in her nature, and for 
the further reason that she recognized 
in the Moor her conqueror, she yielded 
without even a summons to submit. In 
marrying, she married the man she 
loved, but in doing so she violated the 
inviolable right of paternal authority, 
from whose will a daughter can not 
sever herself without calling forth the 
demon of tragedy. In choosing, she 
chose not according to the blind charm 
of the senses, — she saw Othello's visage 
in his mind; and her choice is thoroughly 
justified, for the earnestness of love 
should be marriage. She sacrificed, 
however, a daughter's obedience to her 
love, and, for this reason, storm threat- 
ens their union from its very commence- 
ment, which by-and-by will relieve itself 
in lightning, r^uch conflict as this of 
right against 'right, of daughter against 



0t}^tllox ain glnterpmatton 47 

father, makes tragedy which tears the 
heart-strings. The very first suspicion 
that finds lodgment, then takes root, in 
Othello's soul, is, that as a daughter, she 
deceived her father. It was lago's 
dwelling on this fact that convinced 
Othello that his love was trampled 
upon ; /when there awoke forces in his 
nature* he least of any one suspected; 
whose momentum he least of any one 
understood. He was no such psycholo- 
gist or philosopher as that one who said: 
"There is no crime in the universe that 
I might not have committed had certain 
influences played upon me." 

" My heart *s subdued 
Even to the very quality of my lord, — " 

sums up Desdemona's love. She is tim- 
idity itself where her father is con- 
cerned, — brave only in loving Othello. 
"Every man," said Coleridge, "wants a 
Desdemona for a wife, — one who can 



48 #t]^ello; an 31ntgrpmatton 

feel for you and feel with you." From 
the love and protection of a sheltered 
home we see her go to the unaccustomed 
life of camp and fortified town. She 
spoke truly when she said, "I did love 
the Moor to live w^ith him." J The col- 
lision of daughter and father, her leav- 
ing Venice and accompanying her hus- 
band to a foreign shore, leaves her no 
world but her love. As it is wrought 
out against such a dark background, 
here we are to watch the working out 
of Othello's and Desdemona's destiny, 
as they represent blind Love in contest 
with wide-eyed Hate embodied in lago. 
After the initial incident of the drun- 
kenness, Desdemona is disturbed and 
alarmed, which gives us in Othello's ex- 
clamation a beautiful illustration of na- 
ture being fine in love. It takes the 
strong to be thus gentle ; never was affec- 
tion more shielding than the Moor's. 
From this night we behold him between 



0t\)tllox art Blnterpictation 49 

his unquenchable love and the nightmare 
of lago's hellish suggestions to arouse 
his jealousy. Rochefoucauld said that 
no one escapes causing jealousy who is 
worthy of exciting it. 

There is no better way to take up the 
two most difficult questions in Othello 
than by investigating what others have 
said on these subjects. We quote with- 
out apology, holding with Goethe that 
the most interesting articles are critiques. 
Victor Hugo, while he was a very great 
man, yet he was French, and partly for 
that reason we believe he missed the 
interpretation rather than found It. It 
Is so difficult for those of one country 
to understand the writers of another 
that when the task has difficulties of Its 
own, to them It becomes doubly so. If 
their conclusions are different from the 
wisest of Insight of the author's own 
country, it always leaves open a paren- 
thesis. Or, If they depict a character 
4 



}6^ 



50 #t^ello: 0n ginterprrtaeion 

acting out of accord with what we have 
been made to believe at the outset the 
actions of such a character would be, by 
the creator of that character, we deny 
the title of excellence to the critic in 
that particular instance. There are 
three things worth contesting for, — 

^"^ beauty, virtue, and truth. We give the 
quotation, though we believe he failed 

^. to get inside the English mind: 
r^'What is Othello? He is night. An 
immense fatal figure. Night, is amorous 
of Day. Darkness loves the dawn. 
The African adores the white woman. 
Othello has, for his light and his frenzy, 
Desdemona. And then how easy to him 
is jealousy ! He is great, he is dignified, 
he is majestic, he soars above all heads; 
he has an escort, bravery, battle, the 
braying of trumpets, the banners of war, 
renown, glory; he is radiant with twenty 
victories; he is studded with stars, this 
Othello : but he is black. And thus how 



g^tbello: ^n ginterpretation 51 

soon, when jealous, the hero becomes 
the monster, the black becomes the ne- 
gro 1 How speedily has night beckoned 
to death! 

"By the side of Othello, who is night, 
there is lago, who is evil, — evil, the 
other form of darkness. Night is but 
the night of the world; evil is the night 
of the soul. How deeply black are per- 
fidy and falsehood! It is all one, 
whether what courses through the veins 
be ink or treason. Whoever has jostled 
against imposture and perjury, knows 
it; one must blindly grope one's way 
with knavery. Pour hypocrisy upon the 
break of day, and you put out the sun; 
and this, thanks to false religions, is 
what happens to God. 

"lago near Othello is the precipice 
near the landslip. 'This way!' he says 
in a low voice. The snare advises blind- 
ness. The lover of darkness guides the 
black. Deceit takes it upon itself to 



52 (^tlftello: 2in ^ntttputmon 

give what light may be required by 
night. Falsehood serves as a blind 
man's dog to jealousy. Othello the 
negro and lago the traitor pitted against 
whiteness and candor: what more for- 
midable? These ferocities of darkness 
act in unison. These two incarnations 
of the eclipse conspire, the one roaring, 
the other sneering, for the tragic suffo- 
cation of light. Sound this profound 
thing, Othello Is night, and being night, 
and wishing to kill, what does he take 
to slay with? Poison? the club? the 
ax? the knife? No; the pillow. To 
kill is to lull to sleep. Shakespeare him- 
self, perhaps, did not take this Into ac- 
count. The creator sometimes, almost 
unknown to himself, yields to the type, 
so truly is that type a power. And It Is 
thus that Desdemona, spouse of the 
man Night, dies, stifled by the pillow 
upon which the first kiss was given, and 
which receives the last sigh." 



(Dttiello: 0n glnterpretatton 53 

Ulrici, being a German, had similar 
difficulties to contend with that Victor 
Hugo did. He thought that Othello 
was black, but morally a great man ; but 
he believed, to attain that greatness, he 

y' had struggled and overcome his natural 
temperament. Schlegel, too, saw in the 
Moor, not the white man, but one with 
Cain's brand on his forehead, who un- 
avoidably falls Into the jealousy and 
thirst for revenge peculiar to his race. 
The true excellence of the German mind 
Is Its subtlety of Intellect. In their own 
language they dig, we know, very deep ; 
but we likewise know that difficulties 
are manifold when one tries to gain the 
point of view of those of another coun- 
try. No great English writer believes 

' in a black Othello. We can but feel a 
throb of gratitude that Shakespeare's 
language Is our mother-tongue, for 
there Is a more certain and sure sym- 
pathy of understanding between those of 



54 #t!)ello: an glnterpretatton 

a common descent and common lan- 

^Kpage. 

j Roderlgo uses the term "thick-lips" 
contemptuously; the rivalry is sufficient 
to account for his confusion of negro 
and Moor, aside from his ignorance. 
He was head-over-ears in love with the 
most beautiful woman in Venice, while 
she did not seem to know of his exist- 
ence. Coleridge says that Roderigo 
was perfectly fitted for the purposes of 
lago, as want of character and strength 
of purpose constituted his character. 
Roderigo had no anchor anywhere; and, 
if he had, there was nothing to anchor. 
"I 'm changed," he says; "I '11 go sell all 
my land." lago's dealings with him were 
full of humor. He opened quite a rich 
mine, wherein he digged as occasion 
called. While spending, and therefore 
making safe his interest in the rich 
finds, he received by turns the praise and 
reproof of his dupe. No doubt he felt 



#t!)dlo: an ^nmpttmion 55 

that as the most irksome business when 
it came time to receive the applause of 
a fool. Nevertheless, he went on and 
perfected himself in this branch of art, 
for like Fortunatus' purse, which is al- 
ways to furnish him without ever put- 
ting anything in it, evermore must Rod- 
erigo's purse open for the thousand-fold 
necessities of his ambition; means must 
still meet ends. Ever the voracious de- 
mand, "Put money in thy purse," that, 
like a horn of plenty, it may pour. Dry- 
den declares, "Roderigo is — " but it 
may be sin to even repeat what he says. 
Lamb once remarked that he would give 
a trifle to know, historically and authen- 
tically, who was the greatest fool that 
ever lived. No man ever excelled all 
the world, it is said, in more than one 
faculty. In written lives Roderigo de- 
serves to hold the proud distinction of 
greatest fool. 

Those inhabiting the coast-land of 



56 (Bt\)dlox Sin interpretation 

Africa are known as Moors and Arabs. 
The Moors attained a higher degree of 
civilization than their brethren. They 
are finely molded, athletic, and lithe. 
The name means dark, and they are 
swarthy complexioned, but not negroes 
by any means. Even the Nubians, south 
of the Moors, are not negroes, but are 
supposed to be the descendants of the 
ancient Egyptians; south of them the 
true negro zone appears. The result to 
the play from the conception of a 
black Othello is that of disenchant- 
ment. Shakespeare would scarcely have 
offended in this way. Besides, art deals 
with the rational. Had Othello been 
black, it would have denoted something 
wanting in Desdemona to have so 
chosen. 

Coleridge says of Roderigo's term 
thick-lips, "Here comes one, if not the 
only, seeming justification of our black- 
amoor or negro Othello. . . . Can we 



****' 



#tl)ello: Sin glnterpretatton 57 

imagine Shakespeare so uttely ignorant 
as to make a barbarous negro plead 
royal birth, at a time, too, when they 
were not known except as slaves? . . . 
It is a common error to mistake the 
epithets applied by dramatis persona to 
each other as truly descriptive ; it would 
be something monstrous to conceive this 
beautiful Venetian falling in love with a 
veritable negro. It would argue a want 
of balance in Desdemona which Shake- 
speare does not appear to have in the 
least contemplated." 
Othello says: 

" I fetch my life and being 
From men of royal siege." 

From this we believe the dramatist in- 
tended us to understand that he was a 
Moor of kingly birth, a descendant of 
the Spanish Moors. Perhaps, as a 
nudge to our comprehension, he puts in 
his possession a sword of Spain of the 



58 (j^tlirilo: Sin glnterprrtatton 

ice-brook's temper. Shakespeare learned 
the spirit of the character from the 
Spanish poetry which was prevalent in 
England in his time. He chose the 
Moor, in all probability, because ro- 
mance hovered over them, making them 
fit subject for dramatic material. 

Another difficult question in this play, 
on which opinions differ as far as the 
East from the West, is: Whether 
Othello was jealous in the common un- 
derstanding of that word, or whether 
he was not. We quote from Barrett 
Wendell: "Othello is the supreme trag- 
edy of jealousy. Naturally, then, we 
think of this broadly handled tragedy of 
character, dealing so consummately with 
an absorbing human passion, as a thing 
apart in the work of Shakespeare. Mere 
jealousy, however, without subtle analy- 
sis, would have been enough finally to 
remind us that the concentrated passion 
and power of Othello only intensify the 



(^t\)tl\ot an 3flnterprgtatton 59 

old motive of the mystery inherent in 
the fact that men are men, and women 
are women. Jealousy, after all, is but a 
new phase of this, and a more absorb- 
ing." _ 

While we do not see in the foregoing 
that the left hand of the premises has 
much to do with the right hand of the 
conclusion, yet, with the fundamental 
fact as given by Black and Howells, in- 
volved in it, we have no quarrel. Black 
remarks that, disguise it as you will, the 
underlying interest of every transcript 
of human life is primarily the interest of 
sex; and Howells says that the reason 
Robinson Crusoe can not be read in ma- 
turity, is that it has no heroine. 

Coleridge, whose sympathetic under- 
standing of the poet we know not where 
to find equaled, holds a different opinion 
from Barrett Wendell. Carlyle says that 
it is admitted on all hands that Coleridge 
is a man of genius; that is, a man hav- 



60 #t^ello: 0n ^ntttpttmion 

ing more intellectual Insight than other 
men. *' 'Winter's Tale,' " Coleridge 
says, "Is a genuine jealousy of disposi- 
tion, and It should be Immediately fol- 
lowed by the perusal of 'Othello,' which 
is a direct contrast to It In every particu- 
lar. For jealousy is a vice of the mind, 
a culpable tendency of temper, having 
certain well-known and well-defined 
effects and concomitants, all of which 
are visible in Leontes, and, I boldly say, 
not one of which marks its presence in 
Othello. . . . Shakespeare portrayed 
Uthello the very opposite to a jealous 
man: he was noble, generous, open- 
hearted, unsuspicious, and unsuspecting. 
. . . Jealousy does not strike me as the 
point In his passion. ... tit was the 
struggle not to love her. It was a moral 
indignation and regret that virtue should 
so fall. But yet 'the pity of it, lago ! — 
O lago! the pity of it, lago!' " 

Othello had no faculty for complica- 



g^ttiello: an Blnterpmatton 61 

tlons; he lost himself; being wrought 
on, he was perplexed In the extreme. So 
the handkerchief, which was dear to 
them both as the first token of their love, 
becomes as soon as it reaches lago's 
hands a powerful Instrument of passion 
and of evil. The accident of the handker- 
chief may be said to Introduce the catas- 
trophe. Some paltry accidents show 
mighty purport. Chance in this Instance 
seems to have executed precisely and 
accurately what Fate had determined. 
Emilia's little lie about the handkerchief 
prints on our brains our every-day little 
motives and acts, and their sometime 
terrible results. In lines of tell-tale fire. 
So this little fault that it seemed could 
have but slight Influence, and that im- 
mediately, had long enough arms to 
reach forward to the catastrophe of 
many lives. Emilia's lie teaches, as life 
itself, by indirection. 

Clark remarks about Othello's differ- 



62 g^ttigllo: an ^i^tttpttmi on 

ent stones to Desdemona about this 
same little square: "Even this slight de- 
viation from the truth on his part works 
its own retribution. Had he not over- 
excited the lady's fears by this descrip- 
tion of the handkerchief and startled her 
by his peremptoriness in demanding it, 
she might not have been tempted to pre- 
varicate and tell a falsehood in reply to 
his divergence from absolute fact. Thus 
subtly does the greatest of dramatic 
moralists draw his ethical lessons." 
Barrett Wendell says that, for all her 
tenderness and purity, Desdemona's 
word is not always to be trusted. And 
this is the usual view which is taken of 
this question of veracity in this play. 
Desdemona indeed ! Who is it that does 
not lie about this little handkerchief? 
In the middle act, third scene, comes 
the central turning point, where the 
climax of this main action goes toward 
a change. Othello, following the re- 



#t!)elio: Hn 31nterpretation 63 

treating form of Desdemona with his 
eyes, exclaims : 

"Excellent wretch ! perdition catch my soul, 
But I do love thee !" 

Dr. Johnson says that "wretch" ex- 
presses the utmost degree of amiable- 
ness, joined with an idea which all ten- 
derness includes of softness and want of 
protection. We can neither say that 
here Othello's love reaches its height, 
nor that the ebb begins; but it is here 
caught in a seething vortex and driven 
hither and thither. 1 Immediately fol- 
lowing this, lago distracts Othello's 
mind with the thought, the fear of his 
wife's infidelity, j And fear must have 
its satisfaction as well as fancy. Genius 
Is the highest form of sympathy. We 
must try to place ourselves in Othello's 
situation and under his circumstances. 
Then we shall understand, then we shall 
comprehend, that he could not have 



IX 



64 g^t^ello: Hn glnterpretatton 

acted otherwise with the light he had, — 
a husband, he is stung to madness by a 
wife's unfaithfulness. \ Confronted with 
this sin, a background of wrath lies in 
every man. | Therefore, his passion de- 
veloped in a most serious and profound 
cause, and, like the river hurrying to 
the ocean, it flows with an ever-increas- 
ing tide. We watch it from the very 
slightest undulation of feeling, as seen 
on the surface, as it rises from the 
malicious suggestions of lago, which are 
deliberate, guarded, insidious, dark, till 
it becomes 

"Like to the Pontic sea 
Whose ic)'" current and compulsive course 
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on 
To the Propontic and the Hellespont." 

! With belief in Desdemona's infidelity, 
faith and love die out of his life, which 
is the only absolute despair. All happi- 
ness and unhappiness flow from these 
two fundamental things — belief and 



0t\)tilox an 3f|ntgrprctatton _65 

love. To these all knowledge Is but 
tributary. To know is not life's con- 
summation, but to believe in something, 
to love some one. The despair of 
shaken faith and love threatens to 
drown his soul; he strives to put honor 
in their place. Only those who have 
tried, know how vain a thing it is to 
strive to bridge this loveless, faithless 
chasm. 

A man who would not have had suf- 
ficient proof of a wife's unfaithfulness 
with what lago furnished Othello 
withal, must have possessed Arcadian 
simplicity. Yet to have reasons for be- 
ing jealous is not to be jealous. For 
instance, |lago is jealous. His suspicions 
about Ot'Eello are purely imaginary; his 
keen sense tells him that they are, yet 
he clings to something, where nothing 
is to be found, and finds It. This Is to 
be jealous. The passion kindled by 
actual infidelity Is as justifiable as that 
5 



»^«n' 



66 (i^t^ello? an ginterpmatton 

excited by any other moral offense com- 
mitted by the one you love. 

Desdemona's belief in Othello never 
wavered. For some reason she could 
not understand he had become blinded 
into suspecting and repudiating her; but 
she still had faith in him — could love 
him more than ever under the cloud that 
had somehow fallen over his noble 
spirit. Physical death is not tragedy; 
but to lose faith and love out of the 
soul, that is tragedy. Desdemona is 
sharply contrasted with Emilia, who is 
morally weak, and for that reason con- 
siders all women so. There is such dif- 
ference between their thoughts and senti- 
ments as shows almost as great contrast 
between them as between their husbands, 
and by signs as plain and as little to be 
mistaken. Nothing places Desdemona 
in a more interesting light than the con- 
versation between her and Emilia on the 
conduct of women to their husbands. A 



(^tlb^Uo: ^n glnterpretatton 67 

little later her reply to Emilia's excla- 
mation that she wished she had never 
seen Othello, wins our heart by the 
charm of its humility: 

" So would not I : my love doth so approve 
him 
That even his stubbornness, his checks, his 

frowns, 
Have grace and favor in them." 

It seems destiny had marked him out 
to injure what he loved beyond all else. 
Under his terrible persecution she no 
longer loves, she adores. Coleridge says 
that Shakespeare has drawn the charac- 
ter of Desdemona with those qualities 
of which a man examining his own heart 
might say : "Let that woman be my com- 
panion through life; let her be the ob- 
ject of my suit, and the reward of my 
success." Whether or not we agree with 
his conclusion, a study of Shakespeare's 
women reveals the fact that he evidently 



x 



68 <^t\^tl\o : an ^Interpretation 

thought that woman is "strong to sanc- 
tify even when she can not save," in a 
way which is not possible to man. 

Desdemona, however, is suspected; 
FLove has broken its faith with her. J As 
she prepares for bed on the last fatal 
night, she confers with sorrow. And as 
she confers with sorrow, Death haunts 
her, and she sings the song of the wil- 
low. It was her last lullaby ; she would 
sleep no more. Before the night is far 
spent, Othello enters. He stands silent 
regarding the face of his unconscious 
wife. Life is not divided for him; that 
it has been a simple one reveals itself by 
his grief. All the passion of his soul 
sets like a mighty tide toward this 
dreamer, the only love his life has 
known. He hears no sound but the 
throb of his own passion ; sees no image 
save that one face. Two courses of ac- 
tion struggle together in his nature for 
mastery, — should he, or should he not, 
let her live ? It was inevitable with the 



^t^ello: an ^Interpretation 69 

most painful duty on the one hand, love 
within grasp on the other, that any man 
should rebel against a decree of renun- 
ciation. While hesitating, he broods on 
the mystery of life and death, and thinks 
that if he lets her live it will only be 
to betray more men; but then he asks, 
what if he should repent him after put- 
ting out the light of her life? And as 
he broods, her face becomes his distrac- 
tion ; her matchless loveliness appeals to 
him with all the added power of its un- 
protectedness ; and the protecting spirit 
in man toward child and woman is that 
which nears him most to his Maker. 
Moving, indeed, is the scene which fol- 
lows, where we witness him in almost 
unimaginable passion of anguish. Al- 
most unimaginable — altogether unimag- 
inable — but to one who has suffered a 
loss which exhausted life, which left 
nothing but a sea of sorrow to break 
along life's shore. 



70 (Dtliello: 2in glnterpretatton 

If every closed-door conversation has 
an interest for us, as has been said, then 
this of Othello's, based on the utmost 
passion of which the human heart Is 
capable, in its efforts to resign love, 
might tempt honesty itself to eavesdrop- 
ping If Shakespeare would not let us 
hear. And this is that passion of love 
which Is mimicked when one knows not 
what It means. In the full consciousness 
of his coming loss, it seems as If 
Othello's high sense of justice must melt 
like virtue before a hot temptation; but 
no — he must kill her first, then he shall 
be freed from duty, and may love her 
afterwards. We can not but believe 
Shakespeare's hot tears fell with 
Othello's as he stood over the sleeping 
Desdemona. He had to struggle 
against her helplessness, because it was 
a helplessness that he, of all the world, 
should protect, and that was In Els na- 
ture; he had to struggle against her 



(Bt^tllox an 3f|ntgt:pretatton 71 

helplessness because a sterner duty de- 
manded her death at his hand, and that 
was not in his nature. No such passion 
as this of Othello's was ever self-created 
or self-sustained, but must depend upon 
the actual force of its external cause. 
HamJet's love for Ophelia represents 
man's dream of love ;| Othello's love for 
Desdemona is the deliverance o'f man 
from the dream to the reality. | 

Life and death, rapture and anguish, 
mingle together in his disjointed solilo- 
quy in a way that enhances all former 
impressions of her sweetness a hundred- 
fold. Here only does he unpack his 
heart of words, portraying uncon- 
sciously the mortal grace that dwells in 
flesh. He quaffs again and again Love's 
rapturous draught, but dissolves not the 
pearl of his virtue in the cup. For in 
the face of the soul-crushing belief in 
her infidelity, and the duty which de- 
volved in such instances upon husbands 



72 0t\)t\lox an ilntgrpmation 

in that day, he puts it from him, and 
hurries him to the sacrifice. 

In doing so, Othello resisted the 
sorest temptations from within and 
without wherewithal a man could be 
tempted. Though his spirit broke in 
the conflict, he was conqueror of him- 
self. As seen by the eye of the morally 
judging man, the kingliest of his kind is 
he, — a man of incorruptible virtue, that 
highest of human endowments. How 
infinitely far removed from Othello is 
that sometime acceptation of a virtuous 
man as one who simply puts a high price 
upon himself ! Virtue was the secret of 
Socrates, that which has endeared him 
to mankind. Othello's shines as if clad 
with sunbeams. 

Desdemona wakes, looks up con- 
fusedly, beseechingly, into Othello's 
dark, tear-stained, hopeless face. She is 
overcome with fear when he bids her 
pray, saying he would not kill her un- 



(Dtl)ello: an 3f|nterpmation 73 

prepared spirit. Her protestations of 
innocence are interrupted: 

" Sweet soul, take heed, 
Take heed of perjury ; thou art on thy death- 
bed." 

From the very first scene a shadow of 
coming 111, a low voice of doom, falls. 
It is now plain that the catastrophe 
prophesied from the beginning draws 
nigh. Fronting the extremity that 
Othello's fatal deception made him be- 
lieve faced him, we can not but notice 
he is merciful as may be to Desdemona, 
nor thinks of himself, — a tortured man 
with a broken heart. His mercifulness 
Is like a ray of light falling athwart this 
dark picture. Desdemona pleads for 
respite; death Is terrible to her, — "Kill 
me to-morrow; let me live to-night." 
He will not add to the punishment jus- 
tice compels him to inflict; mercy de- 
mands no more delay. Othello knew 



74 (Dtbello: Sin glnterpretatton 

he had reached his limitation, that a man 
can not forever stand resolute and face 
such pleading. There is no common 
thirst for revenge in the external manner 
in which he executes the murder, — how 
could such a deed be done in a more 
touching way? It is when we are brought 
to such a point of tenderness that all 
her love does but add another pang to 
her death, that we must witness the ex- 
piring conflict between Othello's love 
and his false idea of duty. Steeling his 
mind against sensibility, raising his will 
to such power as to drive back the pangs 
of life itself, he then and there became 
the executioner of his own mistaken 
sense of justice. 

This murder stands in no mortal key 
in its power of inflicting torture, and of 
suffering it. Dr. Johnson exclaims: *T 
am glad I have ended my revisal of this 
dreadful scene; it is not to be endured!" 
Whoever studies long this tragedy is in 



g^thello: 2in ginterpmatton 75 

danger of being followed by it through 
^... time as by "Lear's fury, Hamlet's mel- 
^ ancholy, and Macbeth's remorse." 
Othello may be blameworthy; but only 
he can tell us how blameworthy; who 
can tell us who would have been safe 
from lago? 

This story has run on with an ever- 
widening sweep until, slowly, out of 
what was individual and personal, a 
vaster drama has unfolded itself. For 
the story of the love of Othello and 
Desdemona is prophetic, and finds its 
fulfillment not in their lives. There is 
in everything which approaches great- 
ness an exhilaration for the human 
spirit. All life bears witness to the 
search for such love and faith as is here 
prophesied. It is pathetically universal, 
and its fulfillment to its promise pathet- 
ically inadequate. For this reason fiction 
has become the avenue of escape from 
personal experience, from realities which 



76 ^tiiello : an glnterprttation 

do not correspond with man's high con- 
ceptions. In this fact lies its wonderful 
power ; man looks for the appearance of 
a great love, a great faith in the world 
of thought and imagination, before its 
embodiment in life. This it is for which 
men and women search believingly 
throughout the realm of fiction. Each, 
believing there is the promise in every 
broken, mutilated love, in faith that is 
not perfect, would be the first to make 
the discovery. They feel that the talis- 
man, the example of a great love stands 
in intimate, vital relation to the highest 
life. But is there hope in such a quest 
for the terrible soul? There can be no 
doubt of the truth of the conclusion that 
there is power in human love to work 
as inspiration and as greatness, but it is 
ministrant to a higher still; it has this 
end to serve, love is the interpreter of 
God to man. To know Him is the 
soul's summum bonum; to be like Him 
life's ultimate end. 



(g^ttiello: an glnterpretatton 77 

Emilia arrives after the murder just 
in time to be not in time. While she did 
not hesitate to tell a falsehood about 
the handkerchief as the easiest way out 
of the difficulty; she is roused by 
Othello's blindness and lago's atrocious 
villainy to risk and lose life itself in 
defending the innocence of Desdemona. 

" O thou dull Moor ! That handkerchief 
thou speakest of, 
I found by fortune, and did give my husband ; 
For often with a solemn earnestness 
He begg'd of me to steal it — 

qj^ %l^ ^ %lf tA^ %1^ %if 

#js ^» *J^ *^ *y* ^J* *J* 

She gave it Gassio ! no, alas, I found it,"— 

she exclaims bitterly; at the same time 
revealing the whole history of Othello's 
ruin. If he never suffered before, he 
suffered in the hour of resolution. 
"Why does he know of her fidelity only 
when she is lost to him forever?" he 
asks with that ache of the heart which 
is worse than any physical pain. To 



78 (Ptl^gllo; gn glntgrpmatton 

read this story is to look on at a duel 
when you sympathize with both sides. 
Coleridge asks: *'Which do we pity 
most?" Othello calls for a thousand 
pities; and Desdemona, tears. 

In momentary peril of life Othello re- 
counts incidents from his past; for like 
to a drowning man the panorama of his 
life flashed before him. Human an- 
guish at the lowest deep of desolation is 
wont, like the heart of a whirlpool, to 
be strangely calm. He compares him- 
self to a base Indian who in ignorance 
threw a pearl away. Too late he sees 
his calamitous mistake. His heart has 
no place of strength or refuge left, — 
one thought, and that of misery. He 
goes as it were to meet Death, offers it 
a welcome. There is in Othello all the 
majesty of the humble, the pitiful, the 
mournful. Wordsworth compares the 
pathos in "Othello" to the last scene in 
the life of Socrates. The faculty of 



^ 



<Dtl)gUo: ati 3f|nterpmatton 79 

love and suffering Is the measure of high 
souls, as an incapacity to love and suffer 
means an undeveloped being. The 
greatness of these faculties In Othello 
marks his rank in nature. There was a 
chalice of sorrow pressed to his lips 
which selfishness can never drink, i His 
motive in slaying Desdemona was purely 
that he thought her death was demanded 
at his hand, which made her murder a 
very sacrament. This note he gives back 
In the hour of reaction: 

" O, I were damned beneath all depth of hell, 
But that I did proceed upon just grounds 
To this extremity." | 

As the end approaches, Othello rises 
in tragic greatness. Every man is en- 
titled, to a considerable extent, to be 
measured and judged by his motives. 
We judge our friends so. If anything 
could add to our compassion for 
Othello's fate It would be that he so 



80 (Dtl)ello: an ginterprmtiou 

little deserved it. This we shall the 
more readily concede, if we will but read 
over again all whereby he made himself 
known unto us. He dies — clinging to 
that transient, extinguished life, — and 
his death is hallowed by the sublimity of 
pity. His way was under the tutelage 
of sorrow ; the wine of his life was had 
by the crushing of life's grapes. His 
last words commingle the mother's hush 
with the expiring sob of the storm, 
and somehow imply the thought of one 
who believes that death is an end to the 
bewilderments of life. 

Swinburne says: ''The sacrificial death 
of Desdemona is terrible as tragedy may 
ever be, but beautiful, — from the first 
kiss to the last stab — 'so, so' — ^when the 
sacrificing man of retribution immolates 
the victim whose blood he had forborne 
to shed for pity of her beauty, till im- 
pelled to forget his first impulse, and 
shed it for pity of her suffering. His 



(Dt^ello: an ginterprgtatton 81 

words can bear no other meaning. 
Otherwise how explain Desdemona re- 
gaining her breath, after being stifled to 
death, and uttering the most heavenly 
falsehood that ever put truth to shame? 
To recover breath enough to speak, to 
think of the danger to Othello, and at- 
tempt his defense, she must have recov- 
ered breath enough to live if undis- 
patched by some sharper instrument/' 

Shakespeare, it is said, swings no cen- 
ser, and he may never have dreamed of 
the lesson of pardon conveyed in Desde- 
mona*s last words; but the ethical beauty 
and redeeming power of the spirit of 
forgiveness Is the excuse, the apology 
for, the explanation, the golden light, 
which is here flung over her character. 

Desdemona lost in that moment of 
unconsciousness all personal terror; the 
chord of self died; and she wakes, it 
seems, to prove that love alone survives 
the ultimate trial — death. "Would I 
6 



82 (!^t\)tllox an glnterpmatton 

suffer for him that I love?" asks Brown- 
ing. She answers with the wondrous 
strength of a woman's affection: Yes, 
suffer, and die, and come to life again to 
be Love's solicitor. And, yielding for 
the last time to that greatest temptation 
of the timid, loving nature, "she covered 
up the grave of her life with the leaves 
of true love, saying, 'I did it myself.' '* 



dlQ 18 ISO^ 



:2. 



V -1 I'M 



